


The Cabin

by Morethancupcake



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic Fluff, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Nostalgia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 11:53:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5415917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morethancupcake/pseuds/Morethancupcake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The cabin had been a dream, at first. He used to dream about it when he was still a kid, watching other kids with their parents, on their way to the mountains."</p><p>Dean used to dream about a cabin, and a perfect Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cabin

It's too damn cold when he finally parks Baby for the night.

Cas slept most of the drive, too exhausted to keep up. Dean had just grabbed his jacket with one hand, and done his best to cover him up. Castiel was too thin, and too tired. Most nights he would pass dinner and just fall asleep, and it was beginning to scare him.

The cabin had been a dream, at first. 

He used to dream about it when he was still a kid, watching other kids with their parents, on their way to the mountains. They would always stop at the Roadhouse, perfect families eating Ellen's burgers, perfect kids laughing with perfect parents and talking about their perfect holidays.

Dean had to share a room with Sam, and around Christmas with Garth and Uncle Bobby too, but at least it was better than before.

Dean frowns, because it's been years since he allowed himself to even think about before.

"Cas. Hey, baby. Time to wake up."

The blue eyes are almost lost in the dark circles devouring his face.

"What time is it ? I'm sorry, are we there ?"

"Yes. We are."

 

The cabin is big, or at least it feels big, to Dean. Three rooms, a big living area, a real kitchen and a real bathroom. It looks amazing. 

It's freezing.

 

Castiel is playing around with the heating system, and Dean lets him, carrying their bag to the bigger room, the one with a fireplace, and a big inviting bed.

"We should close the rooms we're not using, and try to keep the warmth the best we can." Castiel is cleaning his hand on a rag he found somewhere, and he rolled his sleeves up his forearms.

Deans wants him. Always. All the time. But especially now.

"You think we could eat something before we pass out ?"

That's when he notices it. Castiel is shaking.

 

They sleep with their hoodies still on, and after a while Castiel puts a fleece blanket under the covers on his feet. The sheets are so cold they feel damp, and Dean is praying he won't have to use the bathroom because he's just too cold to move.

Still, he sleeps better than he has in years.

 

The room smells like weird essential oils. Pine tree probably, and something like eucalyptus. It's nice, it's soothing. Cas' hair smell a little like the road, and Dean makes a face when he remembers they both passed showers the night before. 

Castiel sleeps. He doesn't move when Dean moves away. He doesn't move when Dean stands up, and plays around trying to find his fancy sheepskin slippers and his big fuzzy robe. He doesn't move when Dean opens the door and goes to the kitchen, trying to remember where the hell he packed their supplies.

 

He watches the snow outside, waiting for the coffee and the kettle. He wonders if that's how he's supposed to feel. He's not sure how he feels.

 

Castiel kisses him when he accepts the mug of tea, earl grey with milk and sugar. He looks younger, hair a mess, a slight pout on his perfect lips.

Dean loves him so fucking much.

 

"What do you want to do today ?" Dean doesn't know. He's not sure if he wants to go out and play just yet, but the snow looks inviting. They have a few days, he has plans of course, but... "We could just stay in bed, maybe read a little ? Would that be okay with you ?" 

Castiel kisses his forehead. He does it often, he seems to like it, and Dean loves it, but it's a little different, today. In the kitchen, in the shower, when they're back to a new bed, with fresh sheets still smelling like the dryer, he holds Dean's face in his hands, and he kisses him, soft lips on his skin.

What's moving inside Dean cracks a little at the tenderness.

 

They read. They nap. They kiss too. Dean feels like he could want more, he could move this to something else, but not here, not now. He feels lazy, warm, his head on Cas' chest, reading with Cas' fingers in his hair. It's too good. It's perfect.

 

Castiel navigates them through the days with an ease Dean notices quickly. He knows exactly how to splits the day between walks outside and warm snacks, cooking with fancy beers and watching TV cuddling in front of the fireplace. He laughs softly when Dean points it out, and drinks from his stupid pear cider.

"My parents used to rent a place like this for Christmas, when I was a kid. I remember enough, I suppose."

For once, Dean doesn't press him for details, for little glipses of a tiny Castiel with big glasses and big wool sweaters.

Of course, Cas never dreamed of this, he was in the dream.

Dean drinks, eyes on the game. They eat in silence, it's not bad, exactly, but Dean brushes his teeth when Castiel offers to do the dishes, and he goes to bed during Cas' shower.

Of course, how stupid of him.

 

They go for a jog, in the morning. It's not something he enjoys, really, but it's nice and quiet outside, and it's good to breathe the cold air, and breathe out all of the crap inside of him. Castiel touches him more, holds his hand when they're walking, searches his eyes. He doesn't really have an answer to give.

 

They kiss under the shower, hot and a little dirty. He had ideas, lots of ideas, the first time he saw how big the shower was, big enough for them both. He had plans for Castiel's hands on the tiles, and his tongue on him. He had plans for dirty words, and moans, but not now. Not anymore. 

He makes them the kind of soup Castiel loves, with good vegetables and served with butter and salt. 

It's too cloudy for them to watch the stars. Castiel falls asleep on the couch, the huge comforter around him.

Dean tries to wake him once, twice.

The big bed feel empty, and Dean feels truly lonely for the first time in ages.

The monster in his chest roars, ready to be free.

His pillow is damp, in the middle of the night, when Castiel wakes him up.

 

Castiel makes crepes in the morning. He's a show off, making them jump from the pan, and serving them with strawberry jam, rolled just like Balthazar taught him to. Dean laughs, and kisses him between bites.

 

Sam calls them. He jokes, and tells Dean about the amazing time he's having with Amelia and her family. It's nothing, Dean supposes, for most people, but for them, it's really amazing. 

"I have a stocking with my name on it !" Sam is excited, and he swallows some words, too happy to tell his big brother about it. "And they have the biggest tree !!"

 

Dean smiles, his eyes on the small tree they bought. It's not even a real tree, it's stupid really.

He catches Cas' eyes, worried. 

Sam tells him about all the amazing things he's seeing, he's back to being a little kid, with too big eyes, and Dean drinks.

 

Cas cuts him off pretty early. They're an old couple, they know each other too well. His glass disappears and a mug of hot chocolate takes its place, with whipped cream and a tiny gingerbread man on top.

"Dean" Cas' fingers caressing his. It's his way of asking, his way of offering himself up, of trying to slay whatever demons are inside Dean's head.

His mug is a little cracked, it's nothing much, it's been used a lot, and left here for them to use again.

"It was stupid, uh ?" he whispers instead. "Dragging you here. It's a shitty cabin, for a shitty Christmas. I'm sorry, Cas."

"Dean..." Castiel is sad, and upset. He's worried about him, and he drags Dean close, closer, up until they're breathing the same air, foreheads touching. 

"I'm sorry, Cas. I just, I just wanted this to be perfect."

Castiel doesn't lie to him. He just kisses him, and brushes the tears away. Castiel makes him wait, building a fire for them, watching Dean from the fireplace. They make love, in the big bed, smelling like them. Castiel makes him moan in the pillows, makes him pant and jerk in head back in delight.

Castiel doesn't pretend he can soothe whatever part of him is hurting right now. They kiss, after, slow and sweet.

Dean doesn't cry. He dreams of Cas, and a beach, and cold hands cupping his face. He dreams, and he's happy.

 

In the morning, they stay in their pjs and bake cookies. Tonight is going to be Christmas Eve. They'll eat the cookies and watch some awful movies, they'll kiss, probably, and fight, roasted chicken and potatoes over pork roast and mashed.

The first batch is cooling on a tray, the smell of cinnamon filling the kitchen when Castiel kisses the nape of his neck once, twice.

"It's perfect." he croons.

"We still need to decorate these, but yeah, they look good."

"No, not the cookies." Castiel kisses him, tasting like tea and cinnamon, like the cookie he stole, still hot, and like Dean's everything. "You and me, here. We need to do this every year. Promise me."

Dean wants to argue. He wants to say it's stupid, and obvious. He wants to say it's no Norman Rockwell, it's nothing special, just them, doing exactly what they would do in their tiny home except...

Except Cas looks happy, really happy. His eyes are blue, so blue, and Dean doesn't remember the dark circles. He looks younger, and he kisses Dean again, letting him thinks this through. 

"I promise." Some of the cookies fell on the sink, and they're both too busy kissing to care. Castiel laughs, and hides his face into Dean's neck. "We're not even capable of baking cookies, this is ridiculous."

"I love you, Cas."

 

The spend the day watching bad movies, eating cookies and cheese on toast. Sam sends them a picture of him and Amelia in front on an enormous bird and way too much food. They send back a picture of them still in their pjs, holding steaming mugs of mulled wine.

"This is a perfect day." Castiel says, eyes on the screen, fingers balancing the toast in the general direction of his mouth.

Dean watches him, watches his life, and smiles.

"Yes. It is."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :)
> 
> If you liked it, please leave a comment or kudos ? Nice comments are warm chocolate to the soul.
> 
> You can find it (and me) on tumblr if you want to chat :)
> 
>  http://iwanttopizzamanyou.tumblr.com/post/135107472279/the-cabin
> 
> Have a wonderful december !


End file.
